The dangling light bulb switched on, momentarily blinding me as it swung back and forth. Once my eyes adjusted, I spotted Dimitri lying face down on the floor, the poker sticking through his chest, propping him up slightly off the floor as he lay in a black pool of his own blood.
Just beyond him was his giant assistant, sprawled out on the floor like a mountain. That was enough for me. I turned as much as I could to check on Deborah and realized the rope around us had been loosened.
Quickly slipping out of our ties, we clutched at each other, glad to be free. Deborah pushed away and gently touched my wounded shoulder, making me wince.
"It'll be fine, let's just get out of here," I said as I looked around, unsure which way to go.
"This way," Stewart said from the doorway as he wiped his hands, his forceful voice surprising me.
Grabbing Deborah's hand, I could tell she wasn't steady on her feet. I slipped my arm underneath hers and helped her towards Stewart into the adjoining room. We stepped over several men dressed similar to our kidnappers earlier with their dark t-shirts and bald heads. I recognized Stewart's work in there from the last attempt on my life. But who was in the room with us?
Without a word, we followed Stewart outside where a car waited, its engine already running. He opened the back door and I helped Deborah inside. The fresh air seemed to help diffuse the effects of the drug, and she smiled softly at me.
I held her, my arms wrapped around her soft comforting body, her head against my uninjured shoulder, as Stewart drove. It wasn't long before I realized he was heading towards the ruins of the monastery and not Paris.
"Stewart? Why are we going back to the monastery?"
"There's unfinished business."
I didn't question him. Stewart had saved my life countless times. He raised me. There was no reason to question him. He wouldn't answer anyway.
As he parked the car beside my roadster, I was glad to be back. The place made me feel close to my mother again and filled me with warmth.
With Stewart following, Deborah and I walked along the abbey, marveling once again at the enormity of the structure as we tried forgetting what we had just been through.
"Your mother really loved this place more than any other," said the voice from the darkened room.
Bracing myself for the only possibility, I turned around. He stood beside Stewart, shorter than I remembered and with more grey in his hair, but it was unmistakable. The man was my father.
"I haven't been back here since she passed," he said, sounding a little sad as he looked back at the abbey. "I always suspected Dimitri watched this place. Although that wasn't what kept me away."
"How?" I asked, stunned. "How are you still alive? And why didn't you tell me?"
"You couldn't know. Only Stewart knew, and he had been sworn to secrecy. I had to protect you from the men who were after me. Those men you met today."
"Protect me?! You're the reason I've lived in danger all these years." I yelled.
All the pain and anger from losing my parents so young came back. It was never buried very deep. Here was the man I idolized as a child, half of the world I lost all those years ago, back from the grave, and I couldn't help but wish he was still dead.
"She died because of you," I accused him. "I've blamed some stupid drunk all these years, but it really was because of you, wasn't it?"
"You're right, I should have known better. I was trained to know better. I got sloppy. I thought I was indestructible. I became too cocky and didn't realize the danger I put my family in."
"That's your excuse? You got sloppy? Fuck you, Dad! It wasn't just some mess, it was our life. I was a child! My parents were killed in front of me. Didn't you think about how that would affect me? And then you left Stewart to raise me instead of doing it yourself."
"Stewart's better than me," he said quietly. "I couldn't stay with you. I had to leave. Then they were after me. Stewart is smarter, quicker, more lethal than I ever was. You were safer with him."
"Bill, you owe Will an explanation. He deserves to know what happened," Stewart said. "Tell him the truth."
Everything I had seen of Stewart throughout the years suddenly clicked. All my suspicions about him, the things I thought were too absurd to be true, were confirmed. Stewart wasn't just a driver. He was a trained killer.
"You left your child in the hands of a killer," I said bitterly.
"You were safe! I did what I had to do. I never expected what happened that night to happen. That drunk--"
"I don't want to hear it," I interrupted.
I couldn't imagine telling him how much it hurt to see him. How his standing there, and my knowing he had been well for so many years, made the loss of my mother that much more of a tragedy, and I felt like I was losing her all over again.
Looking at Stewart, I realized how important to my life he really was. He had no obligation to stay with me, yet he did. It was more than I could say for my own father.
I had no more words. I couldn't look at the man who was my father anymore. I had to leave. Looking down at Deborah still in my arms, I slowly let go.
"I'm sorry," I said to her before storming off towards my car.
"Will, wait!" My father called after me, but I didn't care. He had been dead for the past twenty-five years. He could stay dead.
"Will!" Deborah cried out.
I felt bad leaving her, but I had to get out of there. I needed to get away from all the memories that haunted me for so many years. Stewart would take care of her. She was better off without me anyway.
Speeding back to Paris, I called and made a plane reservation, something I had never done before. I didn't want to be William Hargrove King, the Third in his private jet. I wanted to be as anonymous as possible. Besides, Stewart and Deborah needed the jet more than I did.
As I sat at the airport waiting for the plane to board, I spotted several small families similar to my own as a child. Tragedy in any form has an amazing way of changing the world for a person. I once was that innocent child and in a flash became something else.
The words I once considered to be my father's last rang through my head. No regrets. Such simple yet powerful words. But thinking about my father brought all my anger back, this time mixed with the pain of loss.
Even without the events with my father, this trip with Deborah had proven to be more complicated than I had planned. Things were simpler before when I was alone.
Chapter Seventeen
Deborah
"Will!" I cried out as he left.
Still not feeling like myself, I couldn't run after him. He didn't want to be chased anyway. My head swam as I tried to understand everything that happened. It felt like I was in a bad dream.
Will's father was expressionless. I couldn't understand how he could be so cold. He hadn't seen his son in all this time and all he had for him were excuses. I looked at the older version of Will standing before me and wondered why he hadn't left yet.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded as I glared at him. "That's your son! I don't understand everything that just happened, but I don't see how any parent could let their child walk away like that. How can you let him leave? You're abandoning him again!"
"You couldn't begin to understand," he said.
"Why don't you try me?"
I challenged his gaze as he stood quietly. He paced the grounds, looking like he had something to say. As I waited, he looked over at Stewart, who nodded.
"On one condition," Bill said. "You have to promise to tell Will my story. Maybe then he'll understand."
"Of course. He deserves to know."
Will's father looked up at the abbey wistfully. Lost in thought for a moment, he cracked his knuckles one by one. He spoke quietly at first.
"I guess the best place to start is the beginning," he said. "I am William Hargrove King, Jr. But most people call me Bill."
Chapter Eighteen
Bill
"As a boy growing up in poverty, I knew I didn
't have many choices in my life. My parents tried as hard as they could to provide my brothers and I with what they could, but it was rare we could afford anything special or new.
"Still, the neighborhood was nowhere near as decrepit as the night I took Will to see his future, the flagship Hargrove's store. It's sad how that one tragic event formed the person he became.
"Back when I was a child, that section of Canyon Cove was mostly populated by immigrants. Will's grandparents came to the United States with very little in their pockets and nothing more than a dream to guide them.
"My father went by Will, too. The family called me Bill to minimize confusion. With all of his savings from working as a day laborer, my father was able to open the first Hargrove's store. He named it Hargrove's to honor his mother, my grandmother, whose name we carried.
"But my father's Hargrove's wasn't anything like the one in existence now. Instead of hundreds of fine department stores, my father's shop was a corner market where neighborhood folk could buy a few groceries and other basic items. I wanted a better life than that.
"During my last year of high school, an army recruiter came in and made an impressive presentation. He offered us exotic locales and training we could build on for the rest of our lives. I was sold. I didn't need any more specifics other than it was a way out of that tiny corner of Canyon Cove.
"After enlisting, I was required to take an exam to test my psyche. Somehow this multiple-choice test told them my best fit within the military. Needless to say, I look at things a bit differently than others and they determined my best fit was as a sniper.
"The recruiter didn't lie. I did get to travel, but I can't say any of the locales were particularly exotic. If anything, it made me appreciate the beauty of Canyon Cove more, and that is why when I decided to lay down roots, I moved back.
"Don't get me wrong, I was the first to admit I never wanted roots. Bill King didn't want to settle down, and my occupation made my loneliness practically a requirement. To be honest, I preferred my own company to that of others. At least until I met Charlotte, Will's mother. I remember it like it was yesterday."
Thirty-five Years Ago
The military didn't keep their killers for long. Something to do with dehumanization. So after I completed my four years, they offered me another position. It was their way of making sure their assassins didn't snap from overwork. It takes a special mindset to be able to continue this job successfully.
Retirement in my twenties was the furthest thing on my mind though. I loved my job and I was making more money than I knew what to do with. Since the military didn't want me anymore, I learned how to do it in the private sector by taking contracts.
I was down the Jersey Shore on an assignment when I first saw her. As I stood on the busy boardwalk, with its spin-the-wheel games and noisy rides, I pretended to be a tourist people-watching.
I even dressed the part. The best killers know how to blend into their environment. I wore a brown and tan striped cabana boy shirt with a pair of tan slacks and loafers, just like every other man my age.
The reason for this hit was a small crime syndicate. It had sprung up in the sleepy shore town of Point Pleasant, and the powers that be wanted it squashed. Usually my focus was solely on my mark, but as I scanned the crowd, I couldn't help but notice a beautiful brunette sitting at a red picnic table eating waffles and ice cream with complete abandon. I found it refreshing.
At that point, I was only tracking to get an idea of my target's habits. He could wait. The girl couldn't. She had her wavy hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and a red and white gingham dress I recognized as the uniform the waitresses wore at the local diner. Pulling out my binoculars, I admired her full round face, rosy cheeks, and eyes so blue they put the sky to shame. Other boys might have called her plump, but she looked perfect to me.
Growing up, my mother always told me to beware of the girls who didn't eat. She believed that if a person couldn't enjoy food, they couldn't enjoy life. From my experiences, I had to agree. Seeing this gorgeous creature eating this Shore food staple gave me a yearning for companionship I never had before.
The girl sat in an area with twenty glossy red picnic tables next to one of the larger food stands. It wouldn't have surprised me if someone thought painting was equal to cleaning. The stand had a gaudy red and white blinking sign in the shape of an arrow, and most of their offerings sat under heat lamps in the already sweltering humidity.
I noticed the stand didn't serve what the girl was eating and figured it was my in to talk to her. Carefully stepping between the sticky tables, the heat of the day rising from the cement ground, I approached her table.
"Hey there, good looking, whatcha got there?" I asked with my usual swagger.
"Get lost buddy, I'm not in the mood."
She didn't even look up at me. Her face closed off with an expression that told me to go to hell before she continued eating as if I wasn't there. For me, it was love at first sight.
"I'm sorry, miss. I didn't mean to be rude," I said, hoping to charm her socks off. "You see, I'm from out of town. Canyon Cove to be exact. Not sure if you've ever heard of it."
"Do I look like I care?" she interrupted. "Look, I just got off a double and came down here to watch the waves when those two assholes over there decided they thought it would be funny to throw their sodas at me. I don't need any bullshit from you too."
She stuffed her mouth with chocolate ice cream and a piece of the Belgian waffle that cradled the ice cream. I was so busy admiring her before that I didn't notice the soda stains on her uniform or how the front of her hair was still a little wet. As a comfort eater myself, I suddenly realized why she attacked her dessert the way she did.
I looked over in the direction she pointed and saw two men in their early twenties. One had red hair, freckles, and a pug nose, the other had slicked back, greasy black hair. They catcalled the pretty girls who walked past and called the others names or spit on them.
"Those two over there?" I asked her.
Her brow wrinkled as she looked up at me for the first time before nodding her head. "Yeah, that's them. I grew up with those creeps. Even played with them as kids..."
I didn't need to hear any more. Briskly walking towards them, I hopped over the wooden railing between the tables and the boardwalk where they were perched. I put my arms around both their shoulders and smiled.
"You see that girl over there?" I asked as I nodded in her direction. "You touch her or say another word to her again, and I swear it'll be your last."
"Yeah? What are you gonna do? I've never seen you here before. You're not even from around here," said the redhead.
"Let me give you a preview."
Elbowing the greasy guy in the gut, he doubled over and I gave his head a quick shove into my rising knee, easily breaking his nose. Next, my fist flew into Red's solar plexus, causing him to drop to his knees in agony.
Hopping the fence back over to the girl, she looked at me with awe and a smile that showed off her perfect teeth. I bowed to her as she began clapping.
"What did that feel like? Oh, I would've loved to just punch Jay or Donnie once like that. I bet it felt great!" she said.
I laughed. "It did. But only because of what they did to you. I know guys like that, and they'll never bother you again." I looked at her for a moment, taken by her beauty and how full of life she seemed. "I'm sorry I hit on you. I should've realized you were upset. Guess I have bad timing."
"Wait. You were hitting on me?"
"Of course. Look at you."
"Yeah, look at me. I'm a mess. I'm in this stupid uniform and I'm stuffing my face because I felt bad for myself," she said.
"All I see is how beautiful you are. My name is Bill, by the way."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Charlotte."
Present Day
"We were together ever since. The day I convinced Charlotte to marry me was one of the happiest days of my life. The other was when Will was born.
"She never knew what I really did. She was so trusting and innocent. I used my dad's old Hargrove's store as a front and kept funneling money into it so it would grow. Once Will was born though, I didn't want to do the contracts anymore. I wanted to be home and be a normal family.
"I figured I would do one more job. Something of my own choosing. I discovered a new money-laundering scheme being run by a bunch of novices. I heard they were coming into a large sum and I figured I could take them out, take the cash, and no one would know what happened. After that, I planned on retiring from my contracts and focus on growing the store.
"What I didn't know was that behind all the laundering was a bigger, more established cartel. Had I known they were involved, I would have come up with another final job. But it was the money from that final job that enabled me to buy Charlotte her dream house, the mansion Will grew up in. That's also how I was able to later fund the building of the store that made Hargrove's into the fine department stores they are today.
"That winter's night twenty-five years ago made me realize how stupid I had been. I thought I was untouchable. Stewart had warned me about the organization and how they were after me, but I didn't listen. When everything happened and it was just a ridiculous drunk who wounded me so badly and killed the love of my life, I finally accepted I wasn't meant to be happy and that as long as I was around, Will's life would be at risk.
"When Charlotte died, I died, too. I couldn't stay. I couldn't go back to that house she loved so much, just like this was the first time I returned to the monastery. Charlotte's death turned me into a coward running from my memories.
"Eventually I did return to my old habits. It was the only way I knew how to survive. The ironic thing was my return proved to the cartel that I was still alive. Until then, Will was safe. My leaving was exactly what put him in danger, after all.
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